jueves, 18 de septiembre de 2014
lunes, 15 de septiembre de 2014
The photographer who rejected racism in the American south
The photographer who rejected racism in the American south
At the turn of the 20th Century, life was incredibly difficult for the African-American community in the southern states of the US. But one self-taught photographer used his camera to challenge racial barriers and capture the diversity of the American South.
"I did not know my grandfather but I am very proud that he was able to capture these people in pictures - whether they were black or white, rich or poor, farmers or businessmen," says Martha Sumler.
In an era that was marked by growing racial discrimination and the introduction of what were known as the "Jim Crow" segregation laws, a relatively unknown photographer, Hugh Mangum, did a rare thing - he opened his doors to everyone regardless of their race, gender or how much money they had.
Starting in the 1890s, Mangum, a self-taught itinerant photographer, travelled on the railroads across North Carolina, Virginia and West Virginia, setting up temporary studios and taking portraits of the people he met.
At that time, states in the South were introducing legislation that enforced segregation - restaurants, shops and hotels had to provide separate facilities for black and white people. Marriage between races was illegal, separate schools were established and public transport was divided. The effort to disenfranchise the African-American population in the region was underway.
But Mangum's work appears to show that he was a photographer who dismissed this widespread prejudice.
"Hugh Mangum created an environment that was respectful and very often playful in which people could genuinely reveal themselves - men and women, rich and poor, black and white," says Sarah Stacke, who has curated an exhibition of the photographer's work.
Hugh Mangum Photographs, David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University
So was it uncommon at that time to take pictures of such a diverse range of people?
"Within portraiture, I think he's unique for having a completely open studio, for the number of pictures that he took and for the fact that he travelled across states," says Lisa McCarty, Curator at Duke University's David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library.
"It really is a unique record of citizens from this region."
His photographs are not only unusual for the diverse range of people in them but also because more than a few of his subjects seem to be enjoying themselves.
"Often at the end of a sequence of pictures, you see people smiling, laughing, throwing their heads back," explains McCarty. "These comfortable and candid poses were a real hallmark of Mangum's style."
"To see people smiling in the way that you see in Hugh Mangum's pictures and just having fun - that is incredibly rare for the time," says Stacke.
It's not clear if Mangum took these photographs for any political purpose or if he was hoping the images would send a message to those in power who were pushing the segregationist agenda. But photography was being used as a tool for change at that time.
"African-Americans were really harnessing the power of photography to challenge racial ideas and they were using the images to visually create and celebrate black identity," says Stacke.
African-Americans in Mangum's home state of North Carolina were the target of serious discrimination, as they were in other parts of the South. But the town of Durham, where he was born and raised, had an "unusually prosperous black community" says Stacke, with some African-American entrepreneurs owning thriving businesses there.
Growing up in the relative openness of Durham may have had some part to play in the diversity seen in Mangum's photographs - and it is likely he took some of this influence with him as he travelled to other parts of the country.
On his travels, Mangum used a Penny Picture Camera which allowed individual sections of a glass plate negative to be exposed at different times. The use of a single negative for multiple photographs meant he could keep his costs down and make portrait photography affordable for those who were less well off.
The layout of the images on Mangum's negatives show the sequence in which the photographs were taken and therefore reveal the order that people entered his studio.
"We see the pictures of these people side by side in the photographic sense. But I also think many would have been next to each other physically in the studio," says Stacke. "It was a revolving door of diversity."
Mangum's photographs are seen as an important snapshot of those who lived during this turbulent period of America's history - but they were very nearly lost.
He built his first darkroom in a tobacco pack house - a wooden structure used for drying tobacco - just outside Durham. It's where he stored many of his negatives when he returned from his trips.
They remained there for decades, even when the pack house was turned into a barn. Many of the glass plate negatives were destroyed through neglect or by kids throwing them out of the pack house window trying to hit a nearby tree. Of those that were found, a good number of them were covered in hay and chicken droppings, says Stacke.
Nearly 700 negatives were eventually rescued from the chickens and boisterous children and are now stored at the Duke University archives.
Mangum the man has been described as charming and sensitive, with a great sense of humour. Letters now owned by his granddaughter show him to have had an outgoing personality and an ability to converse with all types of people. She notes that he loved taking pictures of anyone and anything and also turned the camera on himself now and again.
A glass plate negative of Mangum's self portraits
The identities of most of the people in Mangum's photographs remain unknown but the hope is that some of these images would have been handed down through generations and people will recognise them. "The archive really creates an overall portrait of the time," says Stacke. "But at heart, it's really a collection of individuals and I think naming them would help us hear their stories and honour them."
Mangum's granddaughter Martha is also keen to know more about the people who sat in her grandfather's studio.
"While looking at the photos, I feel proud, sad, and frustrated… I wonder who the people are, how they lived and worked and were they happy? We will probably never know the answers for most of these photographs."
Hugh Mangum Photographs courtesy of David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University.
Sarah Stacke spoke to World Update on the BBC World Service
TRANSFORMATIONS. CLASSICAL SCULPTURE IN COLOUR
Exhibition: 13.9 - 7.12 2014
Antiquity was white – as white as marble! For hundreds of years this fact has been one of the mainstays in the story of the origin of Western culture: and it remains firmly anchored in the notion we still have of our own culture today. This autumn’s major special exhibition at the Glyptotek turns the idea of the white world of Antiquity upside down and shows that Greek and Roman sculpture were colourful to a degree.
Antiquity was white – as white as marble! For hundreds of years this fact has been one of the mainstays in the story of the origin of Western culture: and it remains firmly anchored in the notion we still have of our own culture today. This autumn’s major special exhibition at the Glyptotek turns the idea of the white world of Antiquity upside down and shows that Greek and Roman sculpture were colourful to a degree.
Ancient colours
Michelangelo and Thorvaldsen in colour? At first the thought seems absurd. But if they and other artists had been aware that the white marble of Antiquity was merely a tenacious myth, Western figurative art would probably have looked radically different. With some 120 original works and reconstructions, among them a large number of outstanding loans from museums in Denmark and abroad, the Glyptotek exhibition demonstrates that Antiquity was anything but sceptical of colour.
Michelangelo and Thorvaldsen in colour? At first the thought seems absurd. But if they and other artists had been aware that the white marble of Antiquity was merely a tenacious myth, Western figurative art would probably have looked radically different. With some 120 original works and reconstructions, among them a large number of outstanding loans from museums in Denmark and abroad, the Glyptotek exhibition demonstrates that Antiquity was anything but sceptical of colour.
The exhibition traces the outline of the fascinating story of the development of colour from Greek to Roman sculpture. At the same time the thread is traced back to the better known use of colour in Egypt. And last, but not least, the exhibition points the way forward to some of the exceptions in later Western sculptural art, in which, resistance notwithstanding, polychromy gained a foothold.
From microscopy to the history of ideas
This autumn’s major special exhibition presents the results of the noteworthy, pioneering research undertaken by an international network of specialist teams - with the Glyptotek as an important contributor. In 2004 the museum presented an exhibition dealing with polychromy in ancient sculpture, shown first at the Glyptothek in Munich, and subsequently at the Vatican Museums. Since then the research has made considerable progress, as regards a more precise mapping of the development in, and the extent of colour use in the ancient world. This is a case of research of an interdisciplinary, almost detective character with its incorporation of advanced natural scientific methods such as laser, x-rays, infrared reflectography and electron microscopic examination of colour sections from original sculptures. The research results achieved internationally and presented here indicate unequivocally the necessity for a revised picture of Antiquity and thereby also of our own cultural self-awareness.
This autumn’s major special exhibition presents the results of the noteworthy, pioneering research undertaken by an international network of specialist teams - with the Glyptotek as an important contributor. In 2004 the museum presented an exhibition dealing with polychromy in ancient sculpture, shown first at the Glyptothek in Munich, and subsequently at the Vatican Museums. Since then the research has made considerable progress, as regards a more precise mapping of the development in, and the extent of colour use in the ancient world. This is a case of research of an interdisciplinary, almost detective character with its incorporation of advanced natural scientific methods such as laser, x-rays, infrared reflectography and electron microscopic examination of colour sections from original sculptures. The research results achieved internationally and presented here indicate unequivocally the necessity for a revised picture of Antiquity and thereby also of our own cultural self-awareness.
As if transformed – the Classical world in colour
The exhibition at the Glyptotek shows spectacular original works juxtaposed with experimental reconstructions in their original wealth of colour, the shocking sensuality of which, at one and the same time, makes Antiquity both more present and remote.
The exhibition at the Glyptotek shows spectacular original works juxtaposed with experimental reconstructions in their original wealth of colour, the shocking sensuality of which, at one and the same time, makes Antiquity both more present and remote.
The mainstay of the exhibition’s storyline is chronology; but thematic interludes with each their focus ensures variety in the sequence of chapters. Accordingly there is a “zoom” in and out, from the ”big” story to close-ups of periods and individual works. In the same spirit the various investigative methods are documented and put into perspective.
The exhibition is accompanied by a catalogue in both a Danish and an English version.
The exhibition is supported by:
A.P. Møller og Hustru Chastine Mc-Kinney Møllers Fond til almene Formaal, Augustinus Fonden, Queen Margrethe’s and Prince Henrik’s Foundation, Kirsten og Freddy Johansens Fond and Sadolin Farveland, Amagerbrogade, Jesper Hansen Aps.
A.P. Møller og Hustru Chastine Mc-Kinney Møllers Fond til almene Formaal, Augustinus Fonden, Queen Margrethe’s and Prince Henrik’s Foundation, Kirsten og Freddy Johansens Fond and Sadolin Farveland, Amagerbrogade, Jesper Hansen Aps.
The research project is supported by The Carlsberg Foundation.
http://youtu.be/QARJIHMiMEM
lunes, 8 de septiembre de 2014
Bienal de Arte de San Pablo
Una de las principales novedades de esta edición es la gran cantidad de artistas transexuales o que tienen la transexualidad, el travestismo y la diversidad sexual como uno de sus temas de trabajo recurrentes.
La 31° Bienal de Sao Paulo, considerada una de las principales citas con el arte en América Latina, arranca este sábado con cerca de 250 piezas artísticas, fruto de 81 proyectos de más de un centenar de artistas de todo el mundo, en una edición especialmente marcada por la polémica.
Con el título “¿Cómo hablar de cosas que no existen?”, más de 100 artistas se dan cita en una edición donde una de las principales novedades es la gran cantidad de artistas transexuales o que tienen la transexualidad, el travestismo y la diversidad sexual como uno de sus temas de trabajo recurrentes.
La inauguración del evento se realiza en medio de una polémica por el rechazo de 55 de los 86 artistas participantes al apoyo que instituciones de Israel dan a la exposición.
Una semana antes de la apertura del mayor encuentro artístico de Brasil y uno de los principales en Sudamérica, el 63 por ciento de los artistas envió un manifiesto a los organizadores para cuestionar los aportes del Gobierno y de empresas israelíes a la Bienal en plena intensificación del conflicto en Gaza.
Bolivia está presente en esa edición, que estará abierta hasta el próximo 7 de diciembre, con el colectivo Mujeres Creando que presentan “Espacio para abortar”.
La presencia del país en este espacio también contempla la proyección de un video titulado “13 horas de reflexión”.
domingo, 7 de septiembre de 2014
La historieta
Sobre la historieta
Por José Pablo Feinmann
La excusa: el 4 de septiembre se festejó el Día de la Historieta Nacional. El motivo: ahondar, girar en torno de ese fenómeno y seguir tironeando de él para que nos entregue, no todos los secretos que atesora (sería imposible), pero alguna de las causas que lo hicieron posible. La historieta argentina es parte de la identidad nacional. Una de sus caras. Porque la identidad nacional no es un bloque monolítico y jerárquico que expresa lo Uno de una Nación. Ese es un concepto totalitario. En una sociedad hay muchas totalizaciones, hay muchos sucesivos momentos que cierran en una totalidad que permite comprenderlos a todos. Pero la totalidad –por su propia vida, su vértigo interno– se destotaliza una y otra vez para volver a totalizarse y seguir. Si esto suena un poco a Sartre, por qué no. Sartre fue para mí lo que Milton Caniff para Hugo Pratt. Una identidad nacional –antes que lo Uno de esa identidad rocosa y áspera con que siempre ha soñado la ratio totalitaria– no es la expresión de lo Uno sino de lo Múltiple. La identidad nacional no viene a soldar la diversidad sino a contenerla, a tornarla inteligible, porque hay varias identidades nacionales y todas tienen que ver con todas. Entran en conflicto, se diversifican. La unidad de lo nacional no es la aplanadora igualdad de lo Uno, donde las diferencias son ahogadas en beneficio de una hegemonía absoluta: sea Stalin o el sueño perfecto del mercado neoliberal. Sólo yo, el primero. Sólo nosotros, los oligopolios que se han comido a los pequeños peces. Es, por el contrario, un conjunto complejo y rico de particularidades que –en su diferenciación– se expresan a través del conflicto, el antagonismo y la creación de consensos. Cada particularidad reclama para sí la representación de la unidad nacional. A veces se impone una, a veces otra. Pero “el país” no se construye de “arriba hacia abajo” como decía un eslogan del Proceso. Sino al revés. Un país se construye de “abajo hacia arriba”. O mejor aún: no hay abajo, no hay arriba. Pero lo que es impensable (desde el punto de vista de una idea justa de la condición humana) es que se haga política, cultura, educación o entretenimiento postergando, como siempre se ha hecho, a esos seres a los que el mexicano Mariano Azuela llamaba dura y tiernamente a la vez (porque era un concepto combativo) “los de abajo”.
Durante la década del ’50 se consolidó un intento nuevo de hacer la historieta o comic o la “literatura dibujada” o el noveno arte. Alguna vez trataremos la inexactitud de todos estos conceptos. Por el momento, digamos: “historieta” es despectivo. Habría una historia y una historieta. La primera palabra termina en “ria”, la segunda en “rieta”, algo que la transforma en una caricatura de la primera, una degradación. “Comic” es un invento de los norteamericanos y la palabra señala un arte que tendría la función esencial de “hacer reír”. “Literatura dibujada” fue un invento de Oscar Massota en los ’60. Es pomposo, busca validar la historieta trepándola a la literatura. Noveno arte no está mal, pero muchos no van a saber cuál es ese arte. De modo que sería apropiado y valiente –conjeturo– quedarnos con “historieta”. Asumir que es un arte popular, de origen bastardo, que apareció en periódicos de largas tiradas, destinados a las masas, que no se requiere “ser culto” para acceder a ella, que de ahí salieron los súper héroes, las vamps, los cowboys, los policías, los detectives, que se puede leer en el subte, en el colectivo o en la sala de espera de un podólogo o de un neurólogo, preferentemente del primero. La historieta se hace rápido, a las patadas (podólogo), tiene el vértigo de las redacciones, sale en diarios y revistas de buena o mala calidad. Con una revista de historietas alguien se puede limpiar en el baño de un bar al que ha entrado de apuro lo que ha ido a limpiarse. Con un libro, no.Vamos a entrar en la temática de la historieta argentina a partir de un tema que el más grande de sus creadores trató con mano maestra: la amistad entre hombres. Voy a tomar dos ejemplos: el Sargento Kirk y Bull Rocket. Kirk contó, desde su inicio, con la pluma excelsa del italiano Hugo Pratt. Bull Rockett tuvo dos dibujantes: el talentoso italiano Paul Campani y luego Solano López, el dibujante de El Eternauta. Campani era un artista más exquisito que Solano, y éste, por esas cosas de la vida, al reemplazarlo tuvo que imitarle el estilo. Bull Rockett debía ser dibujado al modo de Campani. Esto condicionó a Solano para siempre. Para siempre dibujó “a lo Campani”. No lo copió, tenía sobradamente talento para no hacerlo, pero nunca borró sus huellas, porque no pudo o acaso porque no quiso. El estilo-Campani era soberbio y también quedó impreso en Misterix. Campani (según señala el patrón de la vereda en estas cuestiones, el amigo Sasturain) nunca se instaló en Buenos Aires; como, por ejemplo, Pratt, pero siguió enviando sus inspiradas viñetas desde Italia. En honor de Solano hay que decir que reemplazó a Campani mejor que Eugenio Zoppi en Misterix, el menos dotado de todos.
Oesterheld es el creador de las mayores historietas que Misterix ofreció: Sargento Kirk y Bull Rockett. Tratemos de ver el esquema de relaciones. En ninguna hay una mujer. No eran los tiempos. Habría sido interesante (y más que eso) ver a una mujer en el Ranch del Cañadón Perdido. Ver a Kirk y el Corto disputársela. Agarrarse a piñas por ella. ¿Quién ganaría?
Tanto en Rockett como en Kirk los personajes centrales son cuatro. (La teoría oesterheliana del héroe en grupo.) Hay simetrías que debiéramos marcar. No son fáciles. Cada personaje tiene su perfil propio. Pero tratemos de hacer algo:
Sargento Bull
Kirk Rockett
Kirk Bull
Corto Bob
Son muy semejantes. Sobre todo en el papel que desempeñan en la estructura del relato. Kirk y Bull son los héroes dominantes dentro del grupo. Luego están sus versiones secundarias. A Kirk le sigue el Corto. A Rockett, Bob. Nunca se miden entre ellos. Salvo que, como en el Nº 363, de septiembre 9 de 1955, Bob sea hipnotizado e intente matar a Bull por la espalda. Bob es el narrador de la historia (en menor medida, el doctor Forbes asumirá, de tanto en tanto, este rol en Sargento Kirk) y dice: “Cuando Bull se sentó dándome la espalda, aquel puñal que había escondido en mi manga pareció gritarme: mátalo”. No lo hace, claro. Bull elude la puñalada y noquea a Bob de un formidable cross a la mandíbula. Pero atención: Bob estaba hipnotizado. En Kirk, uno a veces extraña un enfrentamiento entre Kirk el Corto. Oesterheld, en cambio, hace enfrentar a los cuatro en una obra maestra que aparece en un Super Misterix: una tribu de indios amigos les hacen el honor de participar en “el gran juego”. Ahí, como jugadores de un bando y de otro se enfrentan los cuatro amigos. Pero sólo así: en un juego, violento como pocos, pero juego al fin.
Los otros dos personajes son, en Kirk, el doctor Forbes y Maha el tchatoga, y Pig y Mamá Pigmy en Rockett. Aquí hay una mujer, Mamá Pigmy, pero es la madre de Pig y, un poco, de todo el grupo. Maha es el joven indio valiente y noble y hermano de sangre de Whatee (nombre indio de Kirk). Y el doctor Forbes es la “razón” en medio de la “barbarie”. Aunque sabe dar piñas y todo lo que sea necesario para sobrevivir, el doctor Forbes es culto y reflexivo. Un personaje espléndido que decidió amar más el desierto que la cultura de los libros y las universidades. Siempre me gustó más Kirk que Bull Rockett. La cara de Bull R., Campani la había tomado de Burt Lancanter (tal como el grangran Clarence Beck había tomado la de Fred MacMurray, el actor de Pacto de sangre, para el glorioso Capitán Marvel, héroe imbatible de lo ’40 e inicios de los ’50, que fue derrotado en un juicio por plagio por la gente de Superman, que le impidió decir ¡Shazam! hasta los ’70), pero la cara de Kirk la inventó Hugo, nuestro Hugo, Hugo Pratt. Trato de dibujarla desde pibe y nunca me sale bien. Ahora, veterano, no lo he conseguido aún. Creo que es una batalla perdida, como todas las grandes de mi vida y de mi generación.
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